


Rebuilding What Was Lost

by darlingfreckles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingfreckles/pseuds/darlingfreckles
Summary: Hermione Granger was never one to shy away from a challenge, and Voldemort killing Harry Potter was no exception. This was her greatest challenge yet. In a world where she thought she was alone, she found an unlikely ally. A story of love, loss, and forgiveness.





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are property of J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Note: Any noncon is NOT HG/SS -- but there is abuse in this fic.

**Shell Cottage, Present Day, 2002**

Hermione Granger was never one to shy away from a challenge. In some respects, this was not only her greatest strength, but her greatest weakness as well. She knew this. She was not so naïve to think that being Hogwarts' resident know-it-all was an entirely good thing. It certainly didn’t do much for her in the friend department and, though it was generally a benefit, not all her professors were entirely fond of her waving her hand around in class _whenever_ they ask her a question. She knew it wasn’t her most celebrated quality, but to heck with what other people think.

When the war rolled around and she, Harry, and Ron went into hiding, she threw herself into the task of keeping them safe and finding you-know-who’s horcruxes. Sorry, _Voldemort_ ’s horcruxes. She wrinkled her nose, Dumbledore’s words chiming through her mind: _Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself_. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

At that moment, she picked a mug from the kitchen cupboard and began to pour herself a cup of tea from the teapot that had been steeping for god knows how long. Searching for horcruxes and hiding from death eaters had been a full-time job for her, she put all her know-it-all efforts into becoming the best horcrux huntress there ever was. She took a sip of the black tea and found herself wrinkling her nose again—too strong, she poured what remained from her mug down the sink and put the kettle on the burner again. It never crossed her mind that she would _fail_. She glanced down at her forearm—though it was covered by her cardigan, she could feel the pulsing of that wretched word etched into her arm. She sighed, dumping the bitter tea from the teapot and pouring the freshly boiled water over a new bag of English breakfast tea. With a wave of her hand she set a timer, she would be damned if she was going to let this pot steep too long.

Now that she had the time to reflect, that day at Malfoy manner marked the beginning of the end. Hermione frowned at that, crossing her arms and standing at the sink in the direction of the kitchen window as she waited for her timer to go off, the soft ebb and flow of the tide heard in the distance. Even though she had lost so much that day—including her freedom—the fact that Ron and Harry were able to escape gave her some hope. _What a fool I was_ , she thought bitterly as her mind recalled the events that followed that horrific day…

 

* * *

  

**_Malfoy Manor, 1998_ **

 

_Barely conscious, Hermione watched as Harry and Ron dropped their borrowed wands at Bellatrix’s command. Internally, she was screaming at them to just **go.** All hope began to drain from her friends faces as the doors to the room opened and a fresh wave of death eaters flooded in. There was no escape._

_As soon as that thought had crossed her mind, she heard a **pop** and Dobby appeared between the two boys. It was as though time slowed down as she watched the boys look from the elf to her and then back again._

_“Go!” She managed to croak, her voice hoarse from all the screaming. “GO!” she screamed louder this time. “I’ll be waiting…” she whispered as they took the elf’s hands and with another **pop** she was alone._

_Bellatrix screeched as the boys left her sights, she threw Hermione to the ground as the entire room descended into chaos. It was mere seconds before the witch was back on top of the younger witch screaming “Where are they?! Where have they gone?!” over and over. “Answer me mudblood!” she snarled, shaking Hermione._

_“I don’t know…” she croaked._

_“LIAR!” Bellatrix screamed. Her hands mercilessly clutched Hermione’s face, “Last chance,” Bella hissed, “before I ruin your pretty little face…” The deatheater look satisfied as fear welled in Hermione’s eyes, but Hermione would be damned if she bowed down to this witch._

_“Do your worst,” she hissed, venom like no other dripping from her voice._

_The elder witch howled in rage, lust and pure, unadulterated fear for the punishment that awaited her for losing Potter and his red-haired goon. Her thumbs, much to Hermione’s dismay, sunk into the inner corner of each of her eyes…_

_“Bella!” Narcissa shouted as she tried to drag her sister off of the younger woman, “Release her!” Bellatrix reluctantly pulled her thumbs from the girl’s eyes, smirking in spite of herself—the damage was done. Hermione had passed out._

_“Cissy!” Bella hissed, “how dare you… do you know what the Dark Lord is going to do to me over this? To **us**?!”_

_“Mangling the only offering we have will do us no favours, Bella!” Narcissa glowered at her sister, her knuckles were white from holding onto Bella so tightly. “She might be the **only**  reason  **we**  live,” she nodded at the frizzy haired know-it-all, “but only if she is alive long enough to  **be**  a bartering chip.” As if on cue, shouts were heard throughout the manner announcing the arrival of the Dark Lord. “Allow me to do the talking.”_

_“You always have had a way with words, dear sister,” Bellatrix curled her lips, her eyes sparkled with a shine that was not there before her time in Azkaban._

 

* * *

 

At that moment the timer buzzed, pulling Hermione from her memory and causing her to flinch. She reached down to the teapot, feeling for the tag attached to the teabag. Sighing, she lifted the teabag, dipping it a few times before she discarded it beside the sink. “Let’s try this again…” she hummed, pouring another mug of tea and tentatively taking a sip. “Perfect…” she smiled into the mug.

At that moment, Hermione heard the gentle click of the front door. She frowned and as she went to place her mug on the counter, she missed it by an inch. “Shoot!” she hissed, as the porcelain smashed on the tile floor and the hot liquid scalded her bare feet, “Ah!” she winced as she knelt to try and clean up the shards, accidentally cutting her knees in the process, warranting a number of new curses to slip from her mouth. _Blasted eyes!_ If she could see, this wouldn’t be a problem. That telltale burn returned to her eyes, threatening tears.

“Hermione?” she turned her head up to the source of the voice. “Merlin girl, what did you do?” She felt a small gust of wind as what she assumed was a tidying charm was cast. She heard the person approach her and stop, their robes brushed her as he knelt down. “Did you forget you were a witch again?” She could hear the smirk, even if she couldn’t see it. At that moment, her eyes betrayed her as she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

The man across from her released a deep sigh, whispering healing charms to mend the superficial cuts on her knees. “I brewed a pot of tea…” she whispered.

“How about I make us dinner, then?” he offered as he held her arms and lifted her to her feet. “Sit.” He said pointedly as he led her to one of the kitchen chairs. She felt his presence leave her and heard what sounded like a new cup of tea being poured. He returned, gripping one of her hands and placing it around the pleasantly hot mug. There was a long silence as Hermione simply enjoyed her tea.

“Tell me about your day.” She said softly, gripping the mug with both hands, holding it close to her chest. The man sighed again as pots began to clatter, and food was summoned from the fridge. 

“There is nothing to tell, unfortunately,” he said quietly, “There is talk of a…” he hesitated, “ _breeding_ programme.” She wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, he must have noticed because she didn’t need to prompt him to continue speaking. “The Dark Lord wants to strengthen the wizarding race. But he would never ask _purebloods_ to breed with _squalor_ ,” he spat the last few words in disgust. “No, instead he intends on punishing half-bloods for their impure heritage and make _them_ breed with mudbloods.” Hermione didn’t gasp at this, very little shocked her as of late.

“Does that mean…?” she began. 

“No.” he interrupted, “no one will be joining us here. As far as the Dark Lord is concerned, he believes me to be his most loyal servant who handed him Hogwarts and guaranteed his victory. He sees no reason to impose the breeding programme on me.” There was a loud bubbling which indicated that the vegetables were boiling. Hermione instinctively rose to her feet and took the top off the pot and turned the burner’s temperature down. She could almost feel the eyebrow raise.

“Muscle memory,” she said sheepishly, “and many, _many_ burns.” 

“He also figures that I have one of the _best_ mudbloods for breeding,” she could hear the frown in his voice. She swallowed some of her fear, wondering if that meant that _she_ might be recruited into the programme, even if _he_ was not. “No.” he answered her fears, “You will be fine and left alone. He knows that you are a vital contributor to my potions. Without you, my productivity would be cut in half. He would not risk his potion supply suffering.”

“Good to know he has his priorities.” She said drily, he snorted in response. She squeaked as she felt him lift her up and seat her on the kitchen counter.

“Taste.” He instructed, holding a spoon to her mouth. She tentatively took the spoon in her mouth.

“Mmm, it’s heavenly.” She moaned, most people didn’t know this, but food was her absolute weakness.

“What do you taste?”

“Worcestershire sauce…”

“Of course, when do I not cook with it?” she laughed at that.

“Onions… sugar… Dijon mustard?”

“Yes. What else?” She hummed as if in deep thought. There was indeed another flavour she could not identify. She heard a gentle chuckle from him, “Sip.” Something else was pressed to her lips at that moment. Doing as she was told, she wrinkled her nose and coughed as she swallowed the bitter liquid.

“Eugh!” She spluttered, “Beer! How can something so disgusting be in something so delicious?!” He let out a hearty laugh at her reaction and resumed cooking. He enjoyed having a companion to cook with more than he would care to admit. He reached over to the kitchen table and picked up her mug, returning it to her where she sat atop the counter.

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, taking the mug from him, “ _Severus_.” He wrinkled his nose as she said his name, he still, after all this time, was not used to it.

 After a long silence as Hermione sipped her tea and Severus continued to prepare dinner, she took a breath, “What about, ehm, _new_ witches and wizards born to muggle parents?”

“What of them?” Severus replied. _He is avoiding the question_ , she thought bitterly, _he knows I won’t like the answer_.

“What happens to them?” Silence. “Severus, _please_.” She reached out toward him but just as her fingertips grazed his robes, he stepped away from her.

“I do not wish to discuss this any further.” His voice was quiet, _dangerously_ quiet. She knew that these past years have been just as hard for him as they were for her but _dammit_ , she wanted answers.

“Severus.” She pursed her lips. “Please. There are too many things you won’t let me ask you about.”

“It’s for your own good.”

"Is it?" She questioned, "or is it for yours?"

 

* * *

 

**_Malfoy Manor, 1998_ **

**_A few days after Hermione’s capture_ **

 

_“Crucio!”_

_Severus writhed in pain on the floor, the pain was matched only by the pain endured by the Dark Lord invading his mind, tearing at the walls he built to protect all the light that he fought for. A cackle in the background indicated that they had company. All pain ceased._

_“Bella,” the Dark Lord hissed, “Why do you interrupt ussss?”_

_“Forgive me my lord,” she grinned, sauntering over to where Severus lay on the ground. “I heard he requested my mudblood.” She sneered and gave him a swift kick to the stomach. “Does dear Sevvy care for the frizzy haired whore?” She knelt close to him, “Do you think you can save her? Too late--you half-blood fool, she is **damaged goods**.”_

_“Now Bella,” the Dark Lord chided, “He has made me an offer I don’t know if I can refuse.”_

_Bella raised an eyebrow at him, “Oh?”_

_“A trade, if you will. Her life in exchange for the location of some of our most **persistent** foes.”_

_“And he withholds this information?!” She howled, “Cruci-“ her curse was interrupted by the Dark Lord flinging his own at her._

_“Mind your place Bella,” He hissed. When he cancelled the curse, staring at the woman now panting from her spot on the floor. Arousal filled her features as she gazed up at him. The crazy bitch got off on being tortured. He sighed, sweeping a hand over his face._

_At the moment, Severus was able to speak—though his voice was hoarse, “I sought this information out specifically to trade it for the girl.” His eyes hesitantly gazed up at the snake-like man that towered over him, “And I will trade it for her **only**.”_

* * *

 

 

“It matters not to me if you believe me, Miss Granger.” His voice was cold… he was occluding.

“You can’t simply block me out when it pleases you, not after everything we have been through.” There was no response. “You are more of coward than I thought, Severus Snape.” She spat the word coward as she pushed herself off the counter and stormed out of the kitchen. She bumped into the odd piece of furniture along her way, but she was familiar enough with the path to make it safely into the living room. Based on the faint crackling and rich scent, Severus had started a fire when he got home. She knew she was baiting him by calling him a coward. 

“I am no coward.” A quiet voice said behind her. He snuck up on her in spite of her improved hearing. But _of course,_ he was no coward. He was the bravest man she knew. Well… the bravest man still _living_ , anyways.

“Of course.” She quipped, “My mistake. Please _do_ forgive me.”

“Damnit Mi-“

“Hermione.” She snapped, “You only address me formally when you are treating me like a child. I deserve to know what happens to _my_ kind when they are born.” She whipped around, bumping into him because of how close he stood to her. “Among other things.” She muttered bitterly. He needed to be more forthcoming with information that was relevant to her. It wasn’t fair. She was cooped up in this place, _his_ place.

“No.” 

“No?!” She practically screamed, her blood boiling and her face flushing.

“No, _Hermione_.” She could _hear_ the sarcastic sneer.

“You. Are. A. Coward.” Each word dripped with venom. “You are too afraid to tell me what the _Dark Lord_ has planned because it is easier to pretend nothing out there—” she gestured wildly toward what she thought were the windows, “—is actually happening.” She crossed her arms. “I will not continue to be a sanctuary for you, Severus. Not if it means keeping me in the dark.”

Severus sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to start telling her things eventually, but he loathed the idea of her getting worked up over something she couldn’t change. But… he _had_ to tell her. He _had_ to give her _something_ , lest she investigate on her own and somehow, some way, discover how he saved her all those years ago. “They die.” He whispered, “Their entire bloodline is decimated… parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, if it breathes—it dies.” Hermione placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a cry. “I’m sorry.” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I wish there was more we could do. Really, Hermione, I do.” Her brow furrowed, she brushed his hands off her shoulders and spun away from him, obviously contemplating something. 

“There must be _something_ we can do…” she hummed.

“No.” He said sternly.

“No as in there is nothing, or no as in you will not even entertain the idea of intervening?” She turned toward where he was standing, her arms were crossed and her brow knit together.

“No as in stop this foolishness. I have risked far too much to keep you safe to jeopardize it now.” Hermione’s face flushed, he could see her irritation beginning to surface. The crackling fire behind her was fitting as a backdrop as she moved slowly toward him. Her hair, which was braided and spun into a bun caught the light of the flames, framing her face like a halo. The scars around her damaged eyes had healed well enough, but the vacant stare they gave off was unnerving when she was angry.

“My life is no more valuable than the babes that _your brethren_ slaughter.” She hissed, now inches from his face.

“Despite what you seem to think, _Hermione_ ,” Severus leaned in until his nose was nearly touching hers, “This is not up for discussion. I will not risk your safety. End… of… story.” He drawled the last few words, trying his damnedest to intimidate the little swot into stepping down. He should be so lucky.

“Not up for discussion?! I am not your prisoner, and we **will** discuss it.” Hermione snarled.

“Technically, little dove, you are indeed my prisoner.” He sneered, his voice a low growl. “It would be in your best interest to remember that.”

“Your posturing doesn’t scare me.” She said defiantly, “You would never hurt me.”

“Oh, Miss Granger,” he said sadly, “I am capable of quite a bit more evil than you give me credit for.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_Malfoy Manor, 1998_ **

 

_“It is secret kept.” Severus said, looking up from the map. “Grimmauld Place is the headquarters for the Order. Since you captured the mutt, it is conceivable that **he** would lead you there. Absolving me of guilt and keeping me as your dedicated spy.” He lowered his gaze in deference to the snake._

_“Would they believe that the werewolf would betray them?” Lucius spoke now._

_“No.” Severus sighed, “that is where the Imperius curse comes in.” He looked at the Dark Lord now, “We can do this without getting our hands dirty, my Lord. Yes, the brethren will be disappointed that they will be unable to **revel** in the deaths of valued Order members, but this way our numbers will not take a hit—no one will place us at the scene.” He paused, “We have him to kill all the residents, finishing it off by killing himself.”_

_After what felt like an eon, the Dark Lord sneered. “Well, well, Severusss,” he grinned, “You do deserve the girl after all. She is yours, you have my word.”_

_Severus breathed a sigh of relief, she was safe from these monsters. He knew his trade meant the death of the mutt, but given the time of year, he suspected that to be the only casualty. **If only he knew then what he knows now…**_


	2. Rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I am getting married two weeks from today, so my life is a little hectic at the moment. I promise the next chapter won’t be such a long wait. To make up for it, I made this chapter a little longer.
> 
> Warning: Some non-con/violence in this chapter.

Hermione hesitated, she could feel his hot breath on her face. Severus had _never_ harmed her save for when the _Dark Lord_ ordered it. He was, despite his appearance, a gentle man. He had taken care over the past four years to teach her occlumency so that they could fool Tom and he could minimize his cruelty toward her when they were alone. Otherwise, she assisted him in making potions, gathering ingredients, and communicating with patrons—by owl, of course. Never in person. Her kind was abhorred in the present wizarding world. To the purebloods and half-bloods that dominated this new world order, she belonged to the scourge of the earth.

Lost in her own thoughts, she barely registered Severus stepping away from her. He remained close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating toward her, but far enough that she could no longer feel his breath. Hermione adjusted her position, straightening her long-sleeved knit dress. “You would never hurt me.” She repeated, quieter than when she had first spat it at him. “Not when you have a choice.”

Severus sighed, regarding the now slightly dejected young woman. “Indeed, I would never harm you out of my own volition.” She hesitantly reached toward him, and he pulled her into his embrace. She clung to his body, her petite frame pressing as tightly against him as was humanly possible. They had been each other’s only comfort these past few years. He rested his chin atop her head breathing in her sweet vanilla scent. A loud **_thump_** on the front door pulled the two apart.

* * *

**_Grimmauld Place, 1998_ **

**_Thump… thump… thump…_ **

_The front door of Grimmauld Place shook in its frame as someone pounded on it from the outside._

_“Hold your horses! I’m coming!” Called a frazzled Molly Weasley, “Who on earth could be here at this hour??” She mumbled, glancing at the old grandfather clock in the sitting room, half past midnight, she noted, pursing her lips. As she reached the front door, she swung it open without a moment’s hesitation, “Remus!” She gasped, “Where have y—” before she could even finish her sentence, the old werewolf mumbled something and green light engulfed her petite frame._

_The older man cast a cushioning charm on his feet and muttered a disillusion spell as he sauntered into the building. He inhaled deeply and grinned in anticipation… there were four others present._

* * *

“Go to the cellar.” Severus hissed, “Select the ingredients for a double batch of replenishing potion, that is our first task of the day.” He shoved Hermione back to the kitchen where she quickly located her ingredient gathering basket on the counter next to the cellar door. He waited until she disappeared down the stairs before sauntering over to the entry door. As the unexpected guest rapt the door again, Severus swung it open.

“Lucius.” He sneered, staring at the older blond gentlemen whom, to this day, remained one of his closest friends. “It is not often that you visit me out in, what is it that you call it? The _backwoods_.”

Lucius huffed, “It’s not a social call, if that’s what you’re implying… It’s not even a bearer-of-good-news call.” Severus’ heart rate increased two-fold as he ushered his friend inside. The wards of the building rippled as they registered his friend’s arrival. Lucius passed him, going straight to the liquor cabinet in the living area, he grabbed two glasses and poured them each a glass of firewhiskey. He downed his, poured another, downed it again, and finally poured a third time before turning around and passing Severus his glass.

“Well?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend as they both took a swig of their drinks.

“I’m here to warn you.” Lucius sighed, “And the girl.” Severus recognized what that meant. He held up a hand signalling to his friend that he should pause.

“A moment…” Snape muttered, he moved to the kitchen and wrenched the cellar door open. “Miss Granger,” he called down the rickety stairwell, “Please join us in the sitting room.”

Hermione swallowed, _this can’t be good_ , she thought. She placed her basket as best she could on the stairs and slowly ascended to the kitchen. As she stepped cautiously into the room she bumped into something. _No_ , _someone_. _Snape_. “Sir?” She bit her lip.

“Come,” he guided her shoulders into the sitting room. He could feel how tense her body was, “Relax witch,” he whispered to her.

“Ah, Miss Granger!” Lucius greeted her as though she were an old friend. Much to her dismay, he embraced her in a hug. “It has been some time, my dear.” He smiled at her and then at his old friend, holding her away from him.

Hermione was not fond of Lucius, but she did tolerate him well enough. He was not quite the _snake_ she had originally thought he was. He was, in his own way, one of the ‘good guys.’ So-to-speak, anyways. Still, he had done some unspeakable things. Then again, so had Severus. But, he _had_ been the one to save her all those years ago.

* * *

**_Knockturn Alley, 1999_ **

_Hermione had become separated from Snape, much to her dismay. She had lost him in the crowd and had opted to tuck herself in an alcove out of fear of **someone else** finding her._

_Much to her dismay, she could overhear the mumblings of wizards passing by “Is that Snape’s Mudblood?” “Oh ho ho… all alone, is she?” “What Snape doesn’t know won’t hurt him…” Three figures began descending upon her._

_“Stop, please!” She yelped as one of them grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward him._

_“Shut up you mudblood whore…” The one holding her snarled, “We are just going to have some fun and then we will return you to your **master**.” Without her wand to defend herself, Hermione was helpless. Damn it all, she thought angrily, how could she be so foolish as to get lost?! She didn’t mean to get separated from him, and in this new wizarding world he was the only one who could protect her. _

_The men dragged her down a dark, empty alley._

_One of the men pushed her blouse aside, tearing at the buttons. His grimy hands roughly fondled her breasts as one of the other men held her. “Nice tits for a mudblood bitch,” the fondler sneered. She whimpered at his bruising grip. The third companion occupied himself by unbuttoning her trousers and trying—with little success—to pull them down her body._

_“Don’t be distressed love,” the one holding her hissed in her ear, “We will make sure you **enjoy** what we do to you.” While Hermione managed to kick the man trying to remove her bottoms, her victory was short lived._

_“You bitch!” The man yelped, slapping her— **hard**. The man holding her tightened his grip on her biceps, a loud **crack** indicating a snap in one of the bones. She cried out in pain as the three men pushed her to the ground, one held her upper half down and the other held her lower half. The third spelled her bottoms off, it was the same man she slapped, she noted, as he leaned in and whisper “What a cute little cunt you have, **sweetheart**. I was just going to take what I wanted and leave, but thanks to your **kick** , I am going to make sure that you enjoy it, so that you can’t **ever** forget.” He paused, “Spread her legs!” he barked at his friend” She tried to scream but something was shoved in her mouth—a kerchief perhaps?_

_She writhed and shuddered as he moved his grimy hand over her opening, circling the entrance slowly. As a sob left her throat, the man whose fingers were hovering over her was ripped away from her and a loud **crucio** preceded him writhing in pain on the floor._

_“What is the meaning of this, Macnair?!” A voice boomed from a hooded figure, the figure’s wand was now pointed toward the man still holding her. The man promptly released her, and she collapsed to the ground with tears streaming down her face._

_“Lord Lucius, Sir,” he ducked his head in deference to the blond wizard. “We were…"_

_“I… don’t… care… **what** you think you were doing. She is **not** your property.” Each word was laden with venom. “Avada kedavra!” He snarled, ending the life of one of the vermin. “Get… **out** … of… my… sight.” Lucius hissed, Hermione could hear the scrambling of the remaining brutes as they fled the scene._

_“Draco,” the older blond wizard gestured to a figure that had previously been shrouded in darkness. “Help Miss Granger to her feet, take her to the Manor. I will find Severus.” The smaller man nodded, rushing to her side. Despite her better judgement, she clung to her school rival as he helped her up and wrapped his cloak around her._

_“I’m going to apparate us Granger, clear your mind.” He whispered._

_Hermione obeyed, closing her eyes as her stomach wrenched and they were spelled away to Malfoy Manor. As they arrived on the grounds, Malfoy wasted no time dragging her toward the building. She stumbled as she clung to him and held her blouse closed. She eyed him cautiously, why were he and his father helping her?_

_“Mother!” Draco called as he pushed the door open._

_“Yes, Draco?” came the voice of the one and only, Narcissa Malfoy as she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. As her eyes landed on the dirty, damaged form of Hermione Granger, her mouth fell ajar. “Oh my! What happened?!” She called as she rushed down the stairs. Hermione felt the woman’s hands come to her shoulders._

_“Macnair and his sidekicks.” That was all Draco needed to say._

_“Help me take her upstairs to one of the guest baths, we will clean her up.” Not that Hermione was unappreciative, but still, **why** were they helping her? Once again, in spite of her better judgement, she allowed both matriarch and son take one of her arms._

_They managed to get her up the stairs, Narcissa led her alone into the bathroom while Draco stayed in the bedroom that was attached. “Mipsy!” Narcissa called, a soft **pop** signalling the arrival of a house elf in the washroom. _

_“Yes Mistress?” The house elf asked eagerly._

_“Bring me some bruise salve, a healing draught, and a pain potion.” The elf nodded and left without delay. The older witch pointed a finger at the tub faucet, turning it on with a flick of her finger. She gazed over at the disheveled brunette who was presently trembling in her son’s cloak. She reached out toward her, her fingers grazing the girl’s hand before she pulled her hand away and let out a soft whimper._

_“Miss Granger,” she said softly, “I am going to lead you over to the bathtub. I want to clean you up before I treat any of your… injuries. Just to be sure no grime remains in the wounds.” Hermione relaxed a bit and allowed the witch to lead her to the tub. She could feel the hot steam sticking to her face. She winced as she tried to remove her borrow cloak._

_“Is something immediately bothering you, girl?” She nodded hesitantly, “Well out with it, come on.”_

_“My arm. They broke my left humerus I think…”_

_The older witch hummed in thought and pulled out her wand. “Miss Granger, I am going to run a diagnostic spell to determine the precise nature of your injury.” The girl nodded feeling a gentle tingling as magic swept over her. A few moments passed and her elder sighed, “Alright, I am going to mend the break before your bath. This will not be pleasant.” There was a soft **pop** and the elf had returned. “Here,” Narcissa took a vial from the elf and regarded the young woman sadly, “Drink this,” it took a moment for her to realize her error. Narcissa scolded herself, I need to hold the vial to the girl’s hand, she thought bitterly, she cannot even see the potion that is right before her eyes..._

_“Thank you.” Hermione said quietly as the vial was pressed into her palm. She swallowed the potion without delay, wrinkling her nose at the sickly sweet flavour._

_“Now, take a deep breath,” She complied, “and release.” As Hermione let her breath out slowly, Narcissa mumbled a quiet episkey. She winced as she felt the bones mend themselves. “Alright then, that’s that, into the tub my dear.” She vanished what remained of Hermione’s clothes—which was not much at this point—took hold of the girl’s good elbow and guided her into the deep claw-foot tub._

_The hot water felt soft and smooth as it gently caressed Hermione’s body. She was grateful that Narcissa made an effort to **gently** lower her to a seating position. The water itself smelt heavenly. “Well,” the blonde said curtly, “I am going to go grab some shampoo, soap and scrubbies. I will return.”_

_Hermione bit her lip, sitting so exposed in a bathroom in **Malfoy Manor** of all places was unnerving. She heard the door open as Narcissa went to leave, “Wait!” Hermione called hoarsely, the lack of sound indicated that the older witch had hesitated in her retreat, “Why are you helping me?”_

_Narcissa let out a nervous breath, “That’s a story for another time, dear.” She smiled sadly, “Just enjoy your bath. There is lavender and Epsom salts infused in it. The Epsom salts should sooth your muscles as they will undoubtedly ache in the morning.” A soft click indicated that Narcissa had left and that Hermione was alone. Epsom salts… that’s a muggle trick. Most witches and wizards would use a muscle relaxant brewed by a potions master, not Epsom salt. Strange, Hermione thought as she leaned back to recline in the tub, perhaps the Malfoy’s are not quite as disconnected from the muggle world as they lead their brethren to believe…_

* * *

“Yes…” Hermione said quietly, “It has been some time.” Severus scowled as he watch the blond bimbo grin at her.

“If you were any less excited to see me my dear,” he smirked, “and I might think you aren’t very fond of me.”

“That _would_ be a shame, wouldn’t it?” She said drily, giving him a small smile.

“Indeed, oh!” Lucius caught both Severus and Hermione by surprise as he snapped his fingers in the air, clearly remembering something. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a small box. “For you,” he held the box out to Hermione, “It’s from Cissy.” She eyed the wizard as he anxiously watched her take the box from him.

“Thank you…” she said quietly.

“Go on,” he implored, “open it!”

Severus stepped over to her and reached toward the box. His hands brushed hers gently to let her know that he intended to assist her. A small inclination of her head that one would miss if they were not watching nearly as closely as he was. Gingerly, he pulled the cover off the box. Inside was a small onyx ring with an emerald rope curled around it. It was so small that the only finger it could possibly fit on was her pinky. She gazed expectantly toward where he stood. Using his free hand, Severus lifted her chin so that he was able to meet her gaze and he pressed the image of the ring into her mind. Her brows furrowed out of curiosity and her fingers immediately roamed over the ring’s details and noted the hum in the air around it which suggested that the ring was imbued with some sort of magic. Gingerly, she picked the ring up and gazed somewhat suspiciously at it while Lucius, in spite of himself, was nodding encouragingly at her. Severus took the box from her and she slipped the ring onto her right pinky. Hermione yelped in surprise as it glowed a deep green—a green so deep that it penetrated her murky vision—and when she went to pull it off, it didn’t budge. “Wh—what did you do?” She spluttered, “Why won’t it come off?” At this point Severus dropped the box, took hold of her hand and tried to pull it off himself.

“It’s enchanted,” Lucius piped up as the two of them struggled with the tiny bauble.

Severus’ head whipped around, and he glowered at his oldest and self-proclaim “best” friend, “Well, thank you for _enlightening_ us, Lucius.” He snarled, each word dripping with sarcasm. “ ** _OF COURSE_** we know that it is enchanted, you blonde baboon!” He practically threw himself at Lucius at this point, “Take… it… off.” He huffed, clutching the crisp white cotton of his so-called friend’s collar.

“Listen, Severus,” Lucius held his hands in the air in surrender, “Let me explain. _Please_.” Severus huffed and dragged the wizard over to the seating area, pushing his friend into a chair and taking a seat opposite him. Hermione joined them, tracing her well memorized steps to her perch on the arm of Severus’ chair.

“First, I’m sorry to have scared you both,” Lucius said solemnly, “I thought it would be funny to do that part first and explain later. In hindsight, I should have followed Cissy’s advice—explain first, gift later.”

“In future,” Severus drawled, “Never do _anything_ without your wife’s explicit approval.”

“Noted.”

“The Dark Lord has expressed to myself and some of his other followers that he is concerned about your relationship with Miss Granger,” Lucius nodded at Hermione, “He is understanding as to why it may not be wise to procreate with her given her usefulness as your assistant, but he thinks you do not…” he hesitated, “ahem, _use_ her to her full potential.”

“ _Excuse me_?” It was Hermione’s turn to talk.

“No disrespect meant, Miss Granger.” He smiled sadly at her, “But the reality is that most mud—sorry, _muggleborns_ , are treated like scum. They are tortured, raped and killed and, if they’re lucky, they meet death sooner as opposed to later. Now, procreation rulings change this. They certainly give muggleborns more value and more rights to fair treatment. But you, Miss Granger, are never seen with so much as a single hair out of order.”

“So… I am treated too kindly.”

“Precisely,” Lucius frowned, looking at Severus now, “And when you vehemently refused to _procreate_ with her, you made the Dark Lord suspicious.”

“I figured as much, but I assumed that it would result in my own torture and--”

Hermione’s brow furrowed at this, “Excuse me.” She interjected, “But if you were to be tortured that would _not_ be any better than if I were to be tortured.” Severus and Lucius exchanged a look. “Stop that!” She barked, startling the two men, “I know that you think you can protect me, and I _know_ that you two share pitying looks when you think I am being naïve.” The silence she was met with told her that they were confused, she sighed. “I’m _blind_ , not _stupid_. Also… when Severus opens a link to my mind to share things with me, sometimes he shares other things, too.” Lucius bit back a laugh at the look of absolutely horror that crossed Severus’ face.

“What do you mean I share _other_ \--?” He was cut off by Lucius’ hand.

“Worry about your secrets later, Severus.” The dark-haired wizard glared. “You are _correct_ Miss Granger, we do think you naïve and try to protect you too often. That is precisely what got us into this mess. Hence,” he gestured to her hand, more for Severus’ benefit than hers. “The ring. Severus, your hand please.”

“I’m not going to marry you, if that is what you are asking.” He sneered which prompted the blonde wizard to roll his eyes. Lucius pulled a ring from his pocket that looked eerily similar to the one now glued to Hermione’s hand except this one was a great deal larger and a deep onyx with a ruby line drawn through the centre. He held it out to Severus who took it from him reluctantly and held it in his palm.

“These rings are not entirely unlike those that bind a marriage ceremony in the wizarding world in that they symbolize a promise.” Lucius paused, “And that promise is not entirely unlike sacrificial protection.” Hermione’s ears perked at that. Sacrificial protection was the counter-charm that gave Harry protection from the Dark Lord. But… Lily died to pass on that protection. Lucius watched the panic rise in the girl’s face, responding to her as though he were reading her thoughts, “Do not worry, Miss Granger, these rings do not take the life of the wearer.” 

“Quit stalling, Lucius. Tell us what they are.” Severus was growing impatient.

“Fine.” Lucius huffed, disappointed that his flair for the dramatics was wasted on his dark-haired friend.

“These rings are from wizarding Russia. They took a great deal of time—years—and effort, and not to mention money, to track down. Between Narcissa and I, we exhausted our connections in the Northwestern region. We also spent some time talking to professors at Durmstrang, though they only have a handful of Russian students admitted each year, we thought that if there was even the smallest chance in hell that they would have a lead, it was worth our time investigating.” Snape glared, “Sorry, _sorry_. I only wished for you to understand the effort that went into retrieving these.” 

“These particular rings were crafted by a great Russian wizard, Grigori Rasputin, in the late 1800s. Unlike most pureblood wizards, Rasputin associated with muggles, specifically, the well-to-do ones… such as the Tsar and the Tsarina. The wizard was either revered or baulked at… some took him for a fool, others likened him to a religious prophet. He was a friend of the nation’s last monarch, Tsar Nicholas II, and he became a healer for Tsarina Alexandra and her son. It is rumored that during her husband’s absence she had taken to spending a great deal of time in Rasputin’s company and that, over time, Rasputin came to love her, although she did not return his affections. She feared so much for her husband’s life while he was away that she barely ate or slept. In an effort to quell her fears, Rasputin sought a means to both connect _and_ protect the two. Familiar with the commitment implied in marital bands in wizarding ceremonies, he sought to build on that bond. To do this, he crafted a set of onyx rings. The smaller of the two rings was plain onyx with another stone wrapped around it. This stone was enchanted with white heather, which has protective properties, and was imbued with a charm so old the translations have been lost. The ring was activated—in other words, it was associated with its partner—when the wearer put it on. The ‘partner’ was determined by the heart of wearer. The larger ring was plainer, it was a simple onyx band with a small groove that wrapped around the middle of the band. The colour this stone took depended on who was wearing the first ring. It was similarly enchanted with white heather and the ancient charm that continues to elude most scholars to this day. This ring can only be worn by the partner of the first.” He stopped, looking expectantly at Severus. 

“And if it is not me?” Severus sneered.

“Then it will burn your hand.” Lucius shrugged, “But I can assure you, it _is_ you." 

“How do you know?” Hermione piped up, startling them both.

“He is your entire existence right now. The ring would recognize that he is your key to staying alive. He is also, and this is a wild guess, the person you dislike the _least_ at present.”

“She does quite like Cissy though,” Severus mused.

“You are not wrong. But Cissy is a woman, these rings were designed for a man and woman _only._ ”

“How delightfully sexist.” Hermione hummed bitterly. “Once on, what _exactly_ do the rings do?”

“Oh, not much,” Lucius grinned, “Let’s just say that they will convince even the Dark Lord that you two ought to stay together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter!!! Please read & review!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Rebuilding What Was Lost" -- this is crossposted on fanfiction.net
> 
> Please read and review!


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